Review: JOSHUA BEAMISH's Saudade at BAM

Good news: we are finally seeing same sex couples in dance. A rarity is now becoming something of a mainstream occurrence as we move into a new realm of sexuality actually being presented on stage. For gay men, and I include myself, we have waited a long time to see this, free from any kind of misrepresentation that smacks of hypocrisy, insensitivity or comic put-downs. We can now examine ourselves in the art of Terpsichore -not only on small stages, but in the repertory of New York City Ballet, the company where women were on pedestals and men their adoring cavaliers.

However, the same phenomenon does pose problems, one that I can address after watching Joshua Beamish's Saudade at BAM Fisher.

The program notes describe saudade, a Portugese word, as "a vague, constant desire for a reality that does not, and probably cannot, exist. It is the love that remains after someone is gone. It describes a deep emotional state of profound melancholic longing, often carrying a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return. To feel saudade is to feel a deep incompleteness and recognize it as familiar."

Is there anyone who has never felt this, the longing and passion for an idealized love, one who can disappear, leaving us in our depression and misery, just as we hope to replicate the relationship with someone new, yet never forgetting the love that consumed our past, even if it was fleeting?

With Saudade, Beamish has largely accomplished this. Set to hauntingly beautiful music by Hildur Ingveldardóttir Guðnadóttir, with evocative lighting by Mike Inwood, which seemingly magnifies the passions and desires that the dancers portray, the dance is a doorway into the burning passions that engulf gay men. We see them in particular situations: making love, leaving as the relationship ends, finding a new partner, remembering a past love that refuses to leave the mind. It only reinforces the fact that heterosexual and homosexual love does not differ in any respect. What we do in the bedroom is private; what we carry around in the back of our minds is universal.

And it's beautifully portrayed. But here's the problem. After a while we witness the same movement, the exact mind set, the continual pining and lust. I wanted to call out, "Hey, Mr. Beamish, that was a great 20 minutes. But what now?"

Perhaps it is not possible to portray our sexuality for 65 minutes. If it had been limited to an extended pas de deux of 10 minutes, the point might have been stated. But Beamish can't seem to get a hold and pinpoint his subject. It just goes on and becomes redundant. This was not just my problem with the dance; others were expressing the same viewpoint. Can sexuality only be reduced to a few minutes, or once it is opened up to an audience can its endless fascination be explored, only to implode with that feeling of, "You know, I've already seen this tonight, let's move on."

The dancers, physically beautiful and beautifully expressive, were roundly applauded at the end. Nicholas Sciscione, Sean Aaron Carmon, Lloyd Knight, David Norsworthy, Dominic Santia and Timothy Stickney, what can I say? Words have no meaning here. In brief, you were all terrific.

As we move forward in this century and the lines blur within the LGBT community, it will be interesting to see what dance will offer us. I believe there are so many things that this wonderful art offers to the gay world, one that has been marginalized in the past. Even though it's still too early to tell, it's a harbinger of what our young dance makers can do. I, for one, am waiting anxiously.

Photograph: Ari Collier

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